The Sun Came Out from the Clouds
by brokende
Summary: 1st place winner, open voting, In The Closet Contest 2010; femmeslash.  Victoria sees Bella, and immediately she wants her.  She yearns to take her, to have her.  Bella makes Victoria burn with need, and Victoria has a plan.  But will Bella succumb?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Sun Came Out from the Clouds**

**Pairing: Victoria/Bella**

**Word Count: 3,934**

**Rating: M/NC-17**

**Summary: Victoria sees Bella, and immediately she wants her. She yearns to take her, to have her, in a way that she's never wanted anyone before. Bella makes Victoria burn with need, and Victoria has a plan. But will Bella succumb?**

The sun came out from the clouds, and I wanted her. The need was fierce and immediate: I saw her, and my whole body flushed with heat, my breathing sped and labored, my nipples hardened, I throbbed. She was just sitting on a bench, reading a book, nothing special. Walking my usual route through the park, ear buds blasting, I probably passed her four or five times that morning without even noticing. But then the sun made an appearance, and her russet hair warmed and glowed in a burst of heat, setting me aflame. I saw her, and she was beautiful. I saw her, and I had to have her.

Fucking other women wasn't new to me, of course. James was a fan of threesomes, and we had brought so many others to our bed-men and women, over and over again. He loved watching me with other people, which I guess was a clue about how he really saw me, but I loved him. I loved him so much more than I should have, so much more than he loved me. So I fucked them all, while he watched. Laurent, Riley, Mary, Bree, Charlotte and Peter, even more whose names I didn't catch-I gave it all to every one of them, over and over again, for him. But I never wanted them, not really. The girls were soft and pliant and different than the men, and sure, I enjoyed touching and feeling and tasting them, but I never really wanted them. I never needed them, physically or otherwise: It was just fucking. And it was all for him, always.

But this, this was different. I wanted her, needed to have her. This time, it was all for me.

"What are you reading?" I asked, dropping myself onto the bench next to her, tilting my head back and taking a pull from my water bottle.

She looked up then, obviously startled to have company, and I saw her eyes for the first time. _My God, _I thought…_oh my fucking God, those eyes_. They were so wide, so expressive. Deep and dark and warm-friendly, inviting, draw-you-right-in eyes. But with something else, a hint of something else. Those tiny flecks of gold amidst the brown, hinting at something heated and forbidden—those flecks gave me hope. Those flecks told me what my body had already screamed in the sun, that she could be mine for the taking.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," she said, smiling at me in welcome. "When I'm reading, I just get lost, you know? My mom always says that a bomb could go off next right next to my head without me even noticing, if I have a book in my hand." She set her book in her lap, folding her pretty little hands over the top and turning her body towards me. "It's a beautiful day now that the sun's out, isn't it?" she smiled, ducking and tilting her head slightly, looking up at me through those long, curling lashes.

"Beautiful," I agreed, knowing that I meant something so much more than the day. "I'm Victoria," I said, holding out my hand for her to shake.

"Bella," she stated, taking my hand in hers. I held it just a beat too long, although I could already tell this beautiful girl had no idea of her own allure, no clue how she was affecting me. I held that dainty little hand, with the smoothest, palest skin, just a beat too long to be polite, and I rubbed my thumb along the back of hers with the lightest of touches. Her skin was like satin, and I couldn't help myself.

"Well, Bella, I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's a habit of mine, I suppose," I grinned at her, opening my eyes wide in an attempt to make her comfortable, to ease her into trusting me. "I'm in publishing, so whenever I see someone reading, I simply must find out what the book is. Occupational hazard, I guess?" I widened my smile, tilting my head right back, giving her my best look of sheepish innocence.

And she smiled in response. A wide, open, gorgeous smile, one that made her eyes shine and her face relax completely. She reached for me then, her hand touching my arm, an unconscious gesture of acceptance. "You're in publishing?" she asked, her hand burning me, burning right through my skin, without her knowing. "I would love to work with books for a living! I'm majoring in English Literature, which I know is pretty much useless, but there's just nothing else I want to study. Did you study English? How did you get into publishing?" she rushed and flushed, beautifully pink in her excitement.

Fixing my smile, I waited a moment before responding, staring and smiling at her in silence. She looked slightly embarrassed at her enthusiasm, and I knew it was time to strike. "No, Marketing," I declared, still fixing her with my older-woman-experienced smile. "I'm in the business side of things, I'm afraid. But I do love books, and I did minor in English, so I know what you mean. What are you reading right now?"

"Oh, just some Austen," she answered, still looking embarrassed, her cheeks even more flushed. "Persuasion. Not very modern, I know, but on a sunny day like this, I like to go to Bath, parasol in hand, in my mind." And she tilted her head again, gazing up at me. My breath caught, and I prayed she didn't notice. _Slow, Victoria, slow_, I thought. _Need to take it easy with this one_.

"Not at all, Bella—I love Jane Austen. Is there a female booklover in the world who doesn't?" I laughed, covering. "Don't men always make fun of us for it?" I continued, planting a seed, planting. "No one understands people as well, in my opinion. No one writes relationships better."

"Exactly," she exclaimed, excited again, "the back-and-forth, the dance between the sexes, it's just so real, I think. Nothing really changes when it comes to romance, that's why she's still so popular," Bella nodded, sure that I'll agree.

"Well, maybe some things," I added, smiling to myself. "But you're right, of course. Her observations are timeless." And I moved closer to her on the bench, just a little closer. She smiled at me then, her wide-open smile, and I knew it was time to retreat. _Enough for today_, I thought. Pulling my business card out of my bag, I held it out to her.

"Bella, I've enjoyed talking with you, and we're always on the lookout for fresh talent at my company," I said. "Why don't you give me a call—maybe we can grab coffee sometime, and talk some more?"

"I would love to!" Bella cried, flushing pink again, torturing me with that skin. "Thank you so much, Victoria! I've really enjoyed talking with you, too, and I would love to pick your brain some more. You are so kind to offer."

_Oh, sweetness, you have no idea what I'm offering_, I think. "Not at all, Bella, not at all," I affirmed, flashing my older-woman smile. "Please call me anytime." Then I left, walking briskly to my car, never looking back. I went home and got myself off three times, to thoughts of Bella—her hair wound around my fist, pulled tight; her mouth, open and panting as I suck her nipples; her eyes, blinking up from between my thighs; that skin, satin all over, even smoother over her stomach, my hands all over it. I came hard and fast, my vibrator barely on the first setting, my pussy dripping and throbbing in want. Then, I waited. I waited for her call, and I avoided the park. She had to come to me, I knew, if I was to have a chance at taking her the way I so desperately wanted.

Bella called two days later; I sent her call to voicemail, to avoid looking too eager. I returned the call the next day, and we met at a little coffee shop close to my office. We chatted about books and her classes and my job, and we drank cup after cup of coffee-mine hot, hers iced. We sat and talked with ease for hours, until she caught a glimpse of the clock over the door and started to apologize for taking so much of my time. I told her that it had been my pleasure, truly, and that I would love to meet with her again. She smiled, eyes wide open and shining. She said she would like that, very much.

Over the next two months, we got together several times a week. We became, and proclaimed ourselves, friends. She told me of her hopes for the future, and the pain in her past. She missed her mother; she worried about her dad. And she regretted the ending of her relationship with Jake, agonized over the loss of her best friend. There was just no passion, she told me, no flame. She loved him, but she couldn't go on as they were. She wanted passion in her life, she said.

I finished yet another package of batteries that night, my poor Rabbit exhausted from overuse.

As our friendship deepened, the locations changed. We went from coffee to drinks; from drinks to dinners; from restaurants to our apartments, late nights spent talking on couches, curled up beside each other, wine glasses in hand. Sometimes we'd watch a movie, and she would always fall asleep in the middle, her head drifting into my lap. Those nights were torturous for me as I ran my fingers through her hair, watching her pink lips parted in repose, her breath soaking into my thighs. I wanted her so badly, wanted to place my lips all over her, but by then, I knew for certain that she'd never been with another woman. I had to be slow, careful. I had to take my time, although I burned for her, even more than I had at the first.

What surprised me was how much I revealed. I told her about growing up poor, my mom working two jobs just to pay the bills, my clothes bought at Goodwill, my shame when someone noticed. I spoke of always being taller than the boys, with red hair and freckles to boot, and the mortification of being gangly and awkward until my twenties. And I told her about James, the whole sordid truth. I even cried, and she held me, staying with me until morning. I wanted her; I burned to take her, yes, but I also liked her. Bella was good, and I found myself basking in her glow. It was confusing, to say the least.

One night, about halfway through our second bottle, the movie forgotten, Bella started to giggle. When I asked her what was funny, she flushed and looked away. "Tell me," I demanded, scooting closer to her on the sofa. She blinked up at me, biting her bottom lip, flushing even darker: she shook her head and looked away again. "Bella," I said, putting my hand on her knee. "Bella, you know you can tell me anything."

She turned her head, and her eyes widened at my close proximity. Her tongue darted out, and she moistened her lips; I followed that tongue as it moved. "I had a dream about you last night," she revealed, quietly. Her breathing sped as we stared into each other's eyes, both questioning.

I inched closer, moving my hand ever so slightly up her thigh. "What kind of a dream, Bella?" I asked, tilting my head toward her.

Her eyes widened further, her breathing became labored. "An erotic dream," she whispered.

_Finally_, my head screamed. _FINALLY_! "Oh, Bella," I sighed, as I moved toward her. "Beautiful Bella," I breathed against her lips. Then I kissed her, softly. I pulled back, ever so slightly, and gazed into her eyes. Her lips parted, and she smiled, just a tiny little smile, but that's all I needed. I went back for her lips, ghosting my hand higher on her thigh, weaving my other hand into her gorgeous hair. I pressed myself harder against those soft lips, and they opened. I thrust my tongue into her sweet, sweet mouth, and she moved her tongue against mine. The taste of her, dear God—she tasted of wine and cake and promises, and I almost lost control, thinking of how she must taste everywhere. _Easy_, I thought, _slowly_. I stood then, holding my hand out to her, rejoicing when she placed her dainty fingers into mine. I led her to my bedroom, and I shut the door.

The picture of trepidation, she stood, muscles clenched, with her back to the door; her eyes were cast downward, her hands intertwined in front of her. "Bella," I said, rubbing my hands up and down her arms, "we'll take this slow, o.k.? I want you, so very much, but I won't do anything to make you uncomfortable. You can trust me." And I meant it; I wanted her, but for the first time, I needed her to want me back. "Please, Bella," I whispered, embracing her fully, rubbing her back gently, "please let me take care of you. Can I have you, Bella, please?" I nearly pleaded, holding her head to my chest with one hand, her body close to mine with the other.

I felt her nod, and I drew back. Holding her gaze with my eyes, planting small kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, I unbuttoned her blouse, letting it fall down her arms to the floor. I kissed her then, running the tip of my finger along the tops of her breasts, gently tracing the swells above the lace of her bra. I drew circles on her lower back with my other hand, lazily circling the satin of her skin. She surprised me then: I felt her hands come up and unbutton my top, removing it in the same way I had hers, then her fingers cupped my breast, squeezing and caressing. Her other hand mapped from my forehead to my jaw, a route of gentle fire, up and down, over and over. I held her to me as I kissed her harder, licking all around her lips, walking backward to the bed. I laid down and moved back, holding her tight on top of me, driving my tongue deeper into her sweet mouth. Then I turned us and hovered over her and watched my hand go from her cheek, down between her breasts, and over her stomach, which was even softer than I had imagined. I kissed her again, then I pulled off her yoga pants, running my hands down the outside of her legs, then up again until I was kneading her hips. Putting both arms around her, I unhooked her bra and threw it across the room; I laid on top of her now, placing my leg firmly between hers, fisting her hair into my hand and thrusting my tongue rhythmically into her mouth. I began to move my leg against her sex in time with my tongue's thrusts, and she arched her back and moaned.

Taking her nipple in my mouth, I teased it with my tongue. I flicked it over and over, and I watched her chest rise and fall more quickly. Then I sucked hard, rolling my tongue around the peak, feeling it tighten. I bit down. "Victoria," she cried out, and I kissed her again, hard, as I pinched her other nipple between my fingers.

Her flush ran all the way down her chest as I took her nipple back into my mouth and ran my hand down, down, down, into her lacy slip of panties. She was warm and wet, and I relished in her as I traced my finger up and down, up and down. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her chin lifted—I leant down and kissed from her ear to her collarbone, gentle kisses, down then back up until I took her earlobe into my mouth and sucked, all the while keeping a slow and steady rhythm over her pussy with just one finger. She turned her head just a little, nuzzling me with her cheek, and breathed into my ear, "Please, Victoria, please."

I kissed her again, still rhythmically stroking, and said against her lips, "What, Bella? What do you need?"

She opened her eyes then, and they were heavy with want, half-lidded and lovely. "I want to feel you. Please, I need to feel you."

Kneeling astride her, I slowly pulled her panties down her legs. I stood then, and I removed my clothing, bit by bit, as she stared. Then I lay over her, my leg back between hers, my breasts rubbing against her chest as I moved up and down, up and down, kissing and licking and nibbling at her lips, running my tongue along hers, holding the back of her head firmly against mine. My other hand ran down her back to the curve of her ass, and I squeezed, pulling her up, lifting her into my thigh, pulling her up and down, our bodies creating a delicious friction. She bent her knee, and I thrust against her, feeling the pressure build against her soft, soft skin.

Pulling up, I gently spread her legs further and began to circle her clit. She gasped, and her hips rose; her knees drew up, and I leant down and kissed her, hard and fast, pinning her back down with my body as a grabbed another fistful of her hair. She moaned and panted, and I rubbed harder. Her hands ran down my back, and she started clutching my ass, trying to pull me further into her. _Oh, not yet_, I thought, as I lifted myself up. She looked up at me in confusion, and I told her the same. "Not yet, beautiful," I said, as I took her hands in mine and raised them over her head, hooking her fingers into the bars of my headboard. I smoothed my hands down her arms, watching myself savor that gorgeous expanse of creamy skin—down over her breasts, around the curve of her hips, across her thighs, until I gripped her firm calves and placed them over my shoulders. Then I lowered myself between her legs, licking and nipping the inside of her thighs, up one, then down the other until I sucked that spot right behind her knee.

She thrust her hips, urging me closer. I parted her with my thumbs and plunged my tongue into her as she arched and moaned. I felt myself start to throb and yearn—her taste, her responses setting me aflame. I rubbed her clit with my thumb as I tasted her, harder, faster, until her legs began to shake. Slowly I pushed one finger into her, in and out, in and out, and her hips began to move. Two fingers thrusting, frenzied, as she moved faster, faster, her head shaking back-and-forth on the pillow, her voice panting out a guttural _oh, oh, oh_ as she trembled. I curled my fingers in and took her clit in my mouth, sucking and pulling and tracing it with my tongue, and she came apart. I looked up as she tightened around my hand, that magnificent flush spreading across her chest, her mouth open in a gasp for air, her eyes burning down at me, those yellow flecks on fire. I slowed, then I gave her pussy one more kiss and shifted up the bed to lay beside her, my hand lazily stroking her skin.

She reached up and pulled me down to her lips; she kissed me tenderly, almost reverently. "You're beautiful," she said, and then she kissed me again, tilting her head to take me in deeper, running her tongue along my bottom lip. "Can I take care of you now?" Bella asked as she ghosted her little fingers down my body with feather-light touches. I joined my hand to hers, and I showed her how to touch me. She was perfect.

The next several months, we were practically inseparable. We went out, we stayed in, we laughed and talked and drank, and we made love, all the time. Bella was the beneficiary of my previous experiences, but it was never just fucking with her, even when we played. And we played hard sometimes—my Bella was adventurous, and I still had that need to take her, make her mine. There was passion and heat and sweat and lust and fun, but eventually I realized that underneath it all, there was love. I fell in love with Bella. But I never told her.

I knew, you see, that it couldn't last. I had taken Bella, and she was mine, but I couldn't keep her, not for long. Bella wanted me, needed me, loved me—but she was never in love with me. I wasn't the passion she was searching for.

And I knew when she had found it. Ironically, we were having coffee in that same little shop. The door chimed, and she looked up, and her face…I had seen an echo of that look on occasion, a glimpse of how Bella-in-love would appear, but this was a full-on assault. This was the real Bella, the person she was at her very core, her soul on display for all to see.

For him to see. So beautiful.

I felt his presence behind me as Bella smiled up at him, beaming and glowing like I'd never seen before. "Edward, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice bright and smiling.

I turned, and there it was—the same look on his face, another soul on display. It was over; I was over. "Bella," he exhaled, gazing down at her. "How are you?" he asked with longing, his hunger for her palpable in the air.

She made the introductions ("My friend Victoria," she called me), and I invited him to join us. He was a medical student at Bella's university; they had met on the quad a few days' prior, when Bella tripped over his bag. They laughed about her clumsiness, and he apologized again for leaving his bag in her path. Their eyes never wandered from each other's, and their bodies unconsciously moved at the same time, in perfect synchronicity. I manufactured an urgent appointment and fled. They didn't notice.

Bella came to me that night, and I let her go. Just like that—no harsh words, no recriminations, no accusations. I wished her every happiness, and I actually meant it. With false promises to keep in touch and one last kiss, she was gone.

She had given me so much more than she had taken, you see. She taught me that I was worth more than what James had stolen, that I could love freely and without restraint, and that I was worthy of being loved in return. Bella brought the sun out from behind the clouds for me, and for that, I was eternally grateful. So I sent her to him, with no regrets.

I did hear from her once more, though. Apparently she had come clean to Edward about the true nature of our relationship, and he reacted…well, like a man, really. "We were wondering…" she trailed off, letting the question hang over the phone lines. I wasn't seeing anyone at the time, so I thought, _Why not?_

But that's a story for another time.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I received several requests to tell the "story for another time" referenced at the end of what I thought was a one-shot, "The Sun Came Out from the Clouds." As a threadiversary gift for the TSA Collective, I wrote this continuation, and I have permission from my Twisluts to publish it here. Please check out the Favorite Authors on my profile, and read their work. There's something for every taste, and they're all wonderful.**

**The Author's Note at the end has information on a couple of anonymous pieces I have floating in the fandom. Take a gander if you have the time.**

**Stephenie Meyer owns ****Twilight**** and the characters described therein; I do not. No copyright infringement is intended. Oh, and this is mainly PW(very little)P, and it's rated M for a reason – if you're under 18, please flounce until you're not.**

When I got the phone call from Bella, I wasn't sure how to react. Should I feel offended, used, abused? Was she just another James, viewing me as a convenient vessel rather than a person worthy of her respect and love? I mean, asking me to join her in a threesome, with the man she fell in love with while she and I were together? Who does that?

My Bella, that's who. And because I knew why, I said yes.

In so many ways, my Bella was still an innocent. Not sexually, not after everything she and I had done, but in how she viewed the world. Her stubborn optimism defined her. To Bella, sworn enemies were potential friends. Families could be cobbled together through love alone. Forever was possible.

And good friends who had been lovers for a while could be together again, just because. Because they wanted to, and because anything is possible when you care for someone. And Bella did care for me. Remember, I never told her that I had fallen in love with her. She never knew just how much our time together meant to me, how much she had changed my life. To Bella, I was her friend Victoria, a woman she liked, respected and admired. As an added bonus, I personified fond memories of a time when she experimented with her sexuality, a time when she was free and young and a little bit wild.

She wanted to be wild again. Who was I to deny her?

Surprisingly, I liked Edward. He and Bella invited me to their home, and after a bottle or two of wine, the three of us relaxed into dinner and conversation. Edward and I proved to be very much alike: He had a sharp, biting sense of humor, and we found ourselves trading anecdotes about the sanctimonious pricks who surrounded us in our chosen professions. Doctors and writers share a tendency toward pretentiousness, and Edward and I reveled in puncturing their bubbles over risotto and salad.

The three of us laughed and ate and got very, very drunk. We retired to the living room with our coffees, Bella sitting between us on the sofa. The air started to vibrate with electricity.

Edward and I shared a look over Bella's head as she hummed and swayed to the background music, and I knew I had to make the first move. I stood, and I asked my girl to dance. She put her dainty hand into mine, and I lifted her into my arms. She laid her head against my chest as we moved slowly to the music. I looked into Edward's eyes as I let go of Bella's hand and began my caress - from the back of her head, through her gorgeous hair, down the center of her back, then onto her ass. He watched my hand's descent, and I saw his lips part and his tongue dart out as I kneaded her flesh, pulling her closer and placing one of my legs between hers.

I looked down then, and I grabbed Bella's chin and lifted her gaze to mine. We stopped dancing for a moment, and I kissed her. We started slowly, with light, gentle pecks, our lips remembering each other gradually. But then Bella mewled and opened her sweet mouth, and my need to take her swept through me like wildfire. My hand dropped from her chin to her waist, and I took firm hold of her, lifting her slightly onto my leg. I swept her lips with my tongue, and she groaned, low and needy. I grabbed onto her hair, pulled her head back and to the side, and sucked on her neck greedily. She started to lift herself up and down on my leg, her hands massaging my breast and my hip, in perfect rhythm to her thrusts.

As I began to trail my kisses up her neck, I caught sight of Edward. He was standing directly behind Bella, his hands lifted out at his sides, tension radiating from him in waves. His jaw was clenched; his eyes were hard, green ice. He looked ready to rip me limb-from-limb. We stared at each other, locked in a possessive battle of cold and flame. As the moment froze, I noticed that in the room's flickering firelight, our hair was almost the same color.

I released Bella's hair and started running my hand up and down her back. I moved us back and forth to the beat, swaying slowly and inching us toward Edward with every step. When he was flush with Bella's back, I reached for his hand and pulled it around the two of us, until it was resting on my hip. And then I waited, staring into his eyes. Of course it was Bella who ended the battle. She lifted her head and her hand, twined her fingers through the curls at Edward's nape, and pulled him down to her for a passionate kiss. I saw their tongues slide against each other, and I began to enjoy the view. Their kiss was equal parts adoration and lust, and their connection was arousing.

Suddenly, I wanted them both.

Bella turned to her left and ran her hands up and down our arms. Looking back and forth between us, she blinked and sighed and then breathed, "Should we go to the bedroom?"

Edward closed the door behind us, turned on the burgundy-shaded, bedside lamp, and then he sat down in the rocking chair in the corner, facing the bed. Bella smiled and walked up to me, pulling my head down for a kiss. We undressed each other slowly, limpidly: As I peeled off her blouse, I teased her nipples through her bra, and then I licked and sucked them through the lace. When we were completely bare, we lay down on the bed facing each other, kissing and touching lightly, relearning each other's curves and crevices lazily. I reveled in the sweet, heart-shaped curve of her ass; she mapped my freckles with her tongue. I marked that sensitive spot on the left side of her neck, and she tickled circles on my right hip. We rubbed against each other as we kissed, our breasts brushing and grazing and tightening. I hitched my leg over her petite frame, capturing and pulling her firmly against me, needing to feel her heat closer, closer, closer. Coiling her hair around my fist, I invaded that sweet, soft mouth, taking control of our kisses as I burned.

Urging Bella onto her back, and I propped myself up on my side and began to explore her fully. I ran my fingers through her hair as I feathered kisses all over — onto her closed eyelids, her flushed cheeks, under her chin. I sucked and bit her earlobe as I tweaked and rolled her nipple with my fingers, pulling and pinching and running it along my palm. Ghosting my hand down over the curve of her waist, I began a gentle circuit over her soft, soft skin — from breast to hip, up and down, up and down, up and down. Bella sighed and stretched and grabbed a fistful of her own hair, her hips starting to undulate in time with the thrusts of my tongue into her velvet mouth.

Reaching down, I stroked my way along Bella's thigh until I felt myself petting the inside of her knee: I curled my fingers around, and then I pulled her leg up and over, opening her completely. Glancing at Edward, I saw that he was breathing heavily, and that his pants were pooled around his ankles, his shirt unbuttoned and half off, and his hand wrapped around his fully erect cock. He was stroking himself in time with his breaths, and he was gorgeous in his attempt to keep control. Bella was bare, and I luxuriated in the feel of her, warm and honeyed to my touch. I thrust two fingers into her quickly, and she gasped and keened in pleasure. I moved in and out of her frantically, massaging her clit with my thumb as I fucked her with my fingers. Her hips started to lift up from the bed, so I pinned her down with my body, working her with my hand as I sucked her nipple into my mouth, licking and biting and teasing it with my tongue.

Bella came hard, her chest arching off of the bed, her chin tilted up as she heaved and moaned. I couldn't pull away from her gorgeous face as she climaxed, but soon I caught a glimpse of Edward. He was standing next to the bed and gazing down at Bella, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning, his breathing labored, his cock fully erect and weeping. Fuck, I knew the man was good looking, but naked he was stunning. All hard edges and angular ridges of alabaster flesh. Bella smiled up at him, mouthing, "I love you." And then she turned and rolled on top of me.

She attacked my lips, kissing and licking and biting until I thought she'd draw blood. Then without any warning, she dove into me, pushing my legs apart and driving her tongue into me with more force than she'd ever shown. The pleasure was extraordinary, and as she started to suck my clit between her lips, I felt her moan around me. Looking up, I saw Edward behind her, pounding into her with abandon. He had her lifted almost completely off of the bed, and he was kneading her ass with his long, long fingers as he pulled her back into his thrusts. He bent over, and taking her hands into his, he drew them up and placed them on my breasts. Together they pinched and pulled and rolled my nipples as he continued to fuck her, hard, and she kept after me with her sweet mouth.

Bella fucked me with her tongue in time with Edward's pummeling, and I felt her every groan and grunt right to my core. Edward and I stared into each other's eyes the entire time, and as I watched his strokes become more frenzied, more urgent, I felt my climax build. We broke together: I saw him throw his head back as he groaned Bella's name before the orgasm hit me in waves. I panted, "Bella, Bella, Bella" as I spasmed, over and over and over again. When I looked down, Bella's head was on my chest, her hand twirling a piece of my hair in her fingers. Edward was draped atop her back, and he was trailing kisses along her neck and shoulders, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Edward lifted his head and looked me in the eye, and I knew that he knew. He knew that I was in love with his Bella, and for the first time since the dance, his eyes warmed as he gazed at me. He conveyed it all to me with that one look — his understanding, his compassion, his gratitude. We were kindred spirits in that moment, united in our love for the beautiful girl sandwiched between us.

I still don't know if Bella and Edward had agreed on parameters beforehand, or if some things were just unspoken and understood, but Edward never touched me that night, nor during any of the nights together that followed. Not for a second. Not even when I sucked that glorious cock, twirling my tongue around his head and tasting the briny tang that was uniquely Edward's, did I ever feel his hands in my hair, or his fingers on my skin. Any pleasure he took from me was always at Bella's request, and any part of him I was given was always still hers, somehow. He thrived on her gratification, glorying in every moan or gasp or sigh that came from her pretty little mouth. He loved watching me play her body, and every time she orgasmed, his face shone with bliss.

They were connected to each other in a way I had never seen. He was hers, and she was his. Completely, and on every level. Each minute of joy was shared equally between them.

And they were always touching, seemingly unconsciously. It was as if they were incapable of not touching, as if their bodies were drawn to each other by an undiscovered law of nature, or physics. Bella loved to watch me on my knees in front of Edward, him standing on display with his muscles taut and his head thrown back, but no matter how many times she started in the corner chair, she'd always make her way over to us within minutes. She'd end up either behind him with her hands and mouth on his shoulders, his back, his ass, his thighs; or behind me, leaning over to kiss and fondle and rub every part of him she could reach.

He was the same way, with her. If I was fucking her, pounding into her with whatever toy she had chosen, he was over her, or under her, kissing and sucking and holding her gaze in every way that he could. He loved to turn her head and lunge into her mouth as I worked her pussy, knowing that whatever I coaxed from her down below she'd give right back to him. We still battled, Edward and I - fire and ice vying for her attention, even though it was a fight I was doomed to lose. But I figured, what the hell? Edward was sexiest when he was riled up and possessive, and we all benefitted from his jealousy in the end.

But at our affair's end, it was my jealousy that froze our passion.

Strangely enough, seeing Bella and Edward together and experiencing their connection intimately helped me to get over my deepest feelings for our girl. I had loved Bella, yes, but never at the level they did each other. I could only marvel at their love, knowing that I had never experienced anything close to the same. Their love was so viscous and present and vital, it hovered around them like an invisible shield - a pocket of air so tight, it burned up all the oxygen and snuffed out my desire for Bella as though it were nothing but a weak flame. My fire couldn't hold a candle to their conflagration.

But still I burned, this time with a need to have what Bella and Edward had. I was no longer content to settle for warmth, or even heat. I wanted the inferno.

Fueled by wine and fervor, I explained everything. I confessed to Bella that I had loved her, but that my love had been a pale imitation of theirs. I told them I could no longer settle for sex and fun, and that although I regretted nothing, I was done. I didn't want to do this anymore, I said, whatever 'this' was. "I want more," I declared. "I want what you have."

Edward and Bella smiled at each other, and then they turned and stared remorsefully at me. Bella leaned over and took my hand, holding it firmly between her own.

"Victoria," she said, "we want that for you too. Very much. Whatever else we are, whatever else you and I have been, I started as your friend. I am your friend. And I know Edward feels the same way."

"We want you to be happy," she said. "I'm so sorry if your involvement with us got in the way of that happiness. I just assumed that you weren't looking for anything serious, and that you were enjoying our time together as much as we were. It's the most selfish thing I've ever done; can you forgive me? Can you forgive us? We care for you, Victoria. We want to stay your friends, if you're comfortable remaining in our lives. Please, Vic? Please forgive us? You brighten our days. Please don't leave us out in the cold."

We cried and kissed and held each other, the three of us tangled together on their sofa, sloppy and emotional and slightly drunk. I realized that we were ending our affair the same way we began it, high on too much wine with Bella in the middle, and that realization made us laugh. Edward even touched me, hugging me to his chest and kissing my forehead. Bella was inconsolable, even though I told her over and over that she had nothing to regret, nothing to feel guilty about. Her tender heart couldn't accept that she wasn't to blame, even though I told her that I was a big girl who had made my own decisions and who took full responsibility for my own happiness. And pleasure, although they already knew that.

Bella smiled then, and Edward winked at me in thanks. The relief I felt at that moment was palpable. I knew then that the three of us could move forward, that the warmth of our affection would carry us into a new relationship based on friendship and trust, and a different kind of love.

And that's exactly what we did. We were friends, Bella and Edward and I - true friends. We still joked our way through risotto dinners and too much wine; we had game nights at my apartment. Bella and I still watched chick flicks and dozed off on her couch; when he got home, Edward would cover me with a blanket and carry her to bed. He and I met for coffee at least once a week, and I savored having my first guy friend. Getting the male perspective without worrying about sexual tension or awkwardness is a gift for a single gal. Edward kept me from wasting my time with more guys than I can count, and even with some of the girls. It was like he could pluck the bad intentions right out of their heads: he had a form of jerkdar that never failed.

Bella and I were as close as ever: We walked the trail at the park at least three times per week, and not a day went by that we didn't check in with each other. We talked and shared and laughed all the time.

They loved me, the real me. Basking in their care, I felt truly happy, perhaps for the first time in my life.

So here I am, in a rare burst of radiant goodwill, attending the fundraiser Edward's mother is throwing for the hospital's Free Care Fund. Bella insisted that I get all dressed up, so I'm wearing a red satin gown, and my feet are killing me in these fucking shoes. I'm at the bar and at a loss, because other than Bella and Edward, both of whom are nowhere to be found, I know no one. I sip my Manhattan and survey the room, trying to look simultaneously hot and unapproachable. These middle-aged golfers and charity doyennes do not interest me.

I see Edward coming toward me, but the woman on his arm, laughing up into his smile, is not Bella. She's tall and thin and gorgeous, with honey-blonde hair in a short, messy style and a tight, athletic build that's showcased perfectly by her shimmering, silver gown with a neckline that plunges almost to her navel. I hear her deep, throaty laugh, and I'm both aroused and alarmed. Surely not, Edward? What is going on?

Then they're in front of me, and Edward's smile is wide and almost … smug? "Victoria," he says, "I'd like you to meet a friend and a colleague of mine. This is Dr. Riley Biers. Riley, this is the dear friend of ours I've been telling you about. Meet Victoria Hegira."

"A pleasure," she says, holding out her hand, "I've heard such wonderful things about you, Victoria."

I stare into her green eyes and take her hand, and a jolt of desire shoots from my fingertips down to my stomach. Her eyes widen, and I feel flushed, stunned. It's as though we're all alone, and I can't see anyone but her, can't hear anything but her quickening breath, can't move my hand from within her grasp. I don't even realize that I've moved closer to her until I hear Edward chuckling. In slow motion, I turn my head slightly and see him standing next to her, but it's not until he raises an eyebrow at me that I drop her hand and take a step back. I'm still tingling, and I finally remember to breathe.

Riley's smile is incandescent. I've never seen anything more beautiful.

"The pleasure is all mine, Riley," I say, and I crook my elbow so that she can take my arm. She does, and her touch spreads across me like wildfire.

"May I buy you a drink?" I ask.

**A/N: As far as I know, this is the end of Victoria's story. But then again, I said that last time ….**

"**The Sun Came Out from the Clouds" received an amazing review from fngrcufs on the L'amour Des Femmes blog. These same, wonderful gals recently hosted a For the Love of Woman contest, and voting is now open. The contest is anonymous, so all I can tell you is that I have an entry posted. But I can also tell you that if you're a fan of femmeslash, or even just an open-minded lover of good fanfiction, you won't be disappointed if you read the 24 terrific stories found here: ****http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2626072/fortheloveofwomencontest**** Please check them out, review and vote! Voting ends 2/21/11.**

**And speaking of the TSA Collective, my darling gals also hosted a contest, and voting is now open. This contest is all about Hot Lemons, so believe me when I say that gusset dampening is guaranteed! Again, I can tell you that I have an entry posted, and that all of the stories are definitely worth your time and attention. VOTING CLOSES SUNDAY, 2/13/11, SO HOP ON OVER NOW: ****http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2600429/TSA_Hot_Lemons**** Please read, review and vote – it'll cure what ails ya!**

**Thank you again to everyone who has read, reviewed, voted for and favorited this story. Your feedback has been inspiring and thrilling. Once again, special thanks to my Twinbrain Conversed and all of my Twisluts, without whom I would write nothing but PTO minutes and checks. Flove my lovelies, HARD.**

**Dawn**


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